The Fountain of Youth still flows (during low tide)
by The Readers Muse
Summary: She got distracted as a sheath of moonlight lit up the span of his knuckles – highlighting the way they tensed and released around the wheel before the darkness swallowed them again. He'd been like that since they'd spotted the car. Fingers tight and white-tipped since she'd said it.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** I got a bit riled up after seeing some of the comments leveled at Carol on tumblr after the promo the followed the end of "Self Help." Just my take on how things went from there in the car scene where they are following the other car.

**Warnings:** *Contains: adult language, adult content, angst and unexpected bonding along the way, spoilers for "Consumed."

**The Fountain of Youth still flows (during low tide)**

"_So, it was just you and Beth, after?" _

"…_Yeah."_

"_You save her?"_

"_She's tough, she saved herself."_

* * *

><p>It wasn't what she'd meant.<p>

Not really.

But since she recognized guilt when she saw it, she didn't press it – _press him_.

She kept her eyes front and center, squinting into the dark, following the blur of light as the moon slid, silk-soft and gentle, off the hood of the car they were chasing. She let the rest of the words pool off in some far corner, too distracted to pay them any real attention as the car ahead of them clipped a walker – nothing more than a flash of faded pink and long feathering hair – before disappearing under the wheel well, crushed when Daryl made no move to avoid it.

She knew Daryl, probably better than anyone.

She knew he was feeling this.

The others had to be blind not to see it.

But she could.

She knew.

* * *

><p>She got distracted as a sheath of moonlight lit up the span of his knuckles – highlighting the way they tensed and released around the wheel before the darkness swallowed them again. He'd been like that since they'd spotted the car. Fingers tight and white-tipped since she'd said it.<p>

She'd asked because it was a reasonable assumption.

In the eyes of the older, the younger would always be young. It was a parental dilemma she'd never quite figured herself free of. There will always be the instinct to protect, to assume they needed it – needed _you_ - regardless if they did or not. And there was nothing wrong with that, most days.

It was expected.

Counted on.

Sometimes even welcomed.

They were all surrogates for someone.

_Lost children._

_Lost loves._

_Lost family._

_Lost friends._

_Lost hopes._

_Lost dreams._

Maybe Beth had been that for him, during those long span of days. Hope. Faith. That sweet little fire brand of a younger sibling he'd never been blessed with. She knew, after Lizzie and Mika, she knew.

* * *

><p>Some people would always need help.<p>

And that was okay.

It didn't mean they weren't strong.

It didn't even mean they couldn't protect themselves – the people they loved.

It just meant that there were different types of strength.

Strength of heart, conviction, mind, faith, morality, each one was important and valuable in its own right. Each one was something they couldn't afford to lose.

Beth _was_ strong.

But not in the same way someone like Michonne was strong.

Similarly, Michonne was not strong in the same way _Beth_ was strong.

No one was perfect.

But that only meant that everyone had something unique to offer.

Something they needed.

Something they were lesser without.

* * *

><p>The car in front of them kicked up mismatched clouds of last fall's leaves. Racing across the trash-strewn blacktop with the single minded purpose everyone out on the roads these days seemed to share. To be <em>anywhere<em> but stuck in the open. People didn't just take to the roads these days. Not unless they were heading home or desperate. She leaned forward in her seat, watching the taillights zig-zag this way, then that.

It made her wonder which one was the case here.

_Home or desperation?_

She snuck a look at Daryl, the act made sly through the near dark. Not that he noticed. Like a coon dog on the hunt, his expression was fixed, grim and fierce as he forced the darkness into a sullen heel.

And not for the first time, she wondered what was going on in there, up in his head, the thoughts she wasn't privy to. He'd always spoken more with silence than he had with words but that didn't mean she relished the thought of constantly flying blind when it came to him and his attitudes.

The curves of his face bent the shadows, keeping them captive somewhere beyond the steady rise and fall of his chest as the silence grew heavy – strained. She watched the words rise up on his lips, only to die before they could be put to voice.

It was contrary to her nature but sometimes she just wanted to shake him. To shock a reaction out of him. Something, anything as her own frustration got the better of her. She'd spent a long time trying to find herself, perhaps just as long as Daryl had tried to fit in, to find his niche.

And together, she believed they'd found it.

They were part of each other's equation just as much as they were part of the answer.

It was just the whole figuring out part that'd been a little rocky.

* * *

><p>She used past tense for a reason.<p>

Because she thought they'd been there.

At the prison.

They'd been on the cusp of it.

On the cusp of _something_.

Only the lull hadn't lasted.

She supposed there was a lesson there. Don't put off today what you can do tomorrow.

Tomorrow was a tricky thing these days.

She knew that better than most.

* * *

><p>Still, she didn't think they'd fallen back to the start either.<p>

She couldn't let herself believe that.

Not after everything that had happened.

Not after the way he'd run at her, lifting her off the ground - _holding her_.

She'd never been held like that before.

Not once.

Like she mattered.

Like he-

"_We'll see who they are. If they're a group, we'll see what they can do."_

* * *

><p>She felt the air shift – parting between them <em>oh so neatly<em> -when his hand left the steering wheel. There was a pause, a space of breaths so tenuous, so sweet, that it nearly broke her. Hanging, like one foot on the edge, until the corner of his mouth quirked and the heavy span of his palm settled across the small of her knee.

Gentle but firm.

It was affirmation in every way that mattered.

Enough that when she sighed, breathing out in a low rush of warmth and white noise, the breath she took back in felt like the first in a long time.

_Thank God._

* * *

><p>Shadow met shadow as the moon slipped deeper into the groves, but Daryl's hand remained where it was. All jerking fingers and the occasional flinch, until she bit down on the inside of her cheek – fully expecting him to startle - and covered it with her own.<p>

And while the unsteady silence remained, so did his hand. Settling in to stay as their breathing slowed and the inside of the windshield started to fog – twin heartbeats thrumming into the still as she fought the small little smile threatening to make tracks across her face.

* * *

><p>Her thumb gentled across the span of scared knuckles and bruised flesh. Far braver than she was prone to give herself credit for as she squinted into the dark. Following the ranging trail as the car they were tailing swerved around an abandoned suitcase, a body, a burnt out car, a-<p>

The slight squeeze of pressure on her thumb and index finger was all she needed to know that he'd seen it.

She supposed it was only right to admit that Beth had always reminded her of Sophia. Of who her sweet girl might have grown into if the world had given her a chance. That type of unfailing goodness, the optimism and sweet sort of naivety she wore like armor to the soul was in dangerously short supply these days.

They'd find her.

Bring her back.

She had a feeling they were going to need Beth and her strength more than not in the weeks ahead.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN #2:** Thank you for reading. Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.


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